Paper Hearts
by LiveLoveLaugh14
Summary: Scroll down reader. You will find nothing here, except pure Dramione goodness every one-shot, every chapter. Don't read, I warn you so, as it will cause smiles, abrupt laughter, maybe a tear or two; and before you know it, people will be giving you looks. Yes, dear reader, do not — I repeat, do not — indulge in these fluffy Draco/Hermione drabbles. They'll take over your life.
1. Maybe Tomorrow

**AN/:** Those of you who know me, will probably remember a little ol' story called 'Guilty Pleasure'. After having it taken down—thanks _again_, site—I realised how much I miss writing drabbles. They're quick, easy, and just something I can update when my long stories are trying to kill me. Unlike last time, I've decided to base them around songs. I practically listen to one, think up a small plot, and type-ity-type.

**Warnings:** Implied sexual situations.

Review.

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**i. Maybe Tomorrow.**

"Honey—do you think—is it straight?"

Hermione stared at the canvas that now hanged from the wall of the corridor, judging the angle with a tilt of her head.

Her husband came through the door carrying a cardboard box with the words 'Books' scrawled across the side.

"Jesus, Hermione. How many books do you _need_?"

"Please," She scoffed, crossing her arms and taking a step back to look at it again. "Those are just the_ Conan Doyles_, pretty boy."

He dropped the box by the door with a _thud_, coming to stand behind her. Two strong arms wrapped around her middle, and she leaned back into the embrace with a contented sigh.

"I don't know. I just don't think it's straight."

He chuckled against her neck, the motion vibrating through her body. "How about we _assume_ it is, until it decides to come out."

She rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless. She clasped her hands over his which rested on her stomach, lacing her fingers through the gaps between Draco's.

"It's fine, baby." He muttered, too occupied with peppering kisses down her neck. "Now, come on; let's make this house into a home."

He released her slightly, though by still holding one of her hands, he pulled her towards the sweeping stairs.

She smirked at him, following him through. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

He pulled her close, balancing them both on one of the stairs.

"There are a lot of rooms in this house." He said with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow. "Let's make use of them."

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'Maybe Tomorrow.' — _Stereophonics_.


	2. Fix You

**AN/: **Just to let you guys know, these drabbles will vary in length, genre, rating and tense. Oh, and maybe POVs. Right, yeah. Read on.

AU, where they both use phones and magic doesn't exist.

Do me a little favour, and review. I love reviews.

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**ii. Fix You.**

"Hello?"

Hermione stays silent for a moment, only the light crackling of the reception in her ear. She sits with her legs crossed on her bed, counting the scratches on the ceiling. The hand holding her phone to her ear is tired, and she lies back onto the mattress, wondering if he's hung up as yet.

"Hi."

The word is practically exhaled, and she notices the stopping of noise on the other side.

"Hey," He says back, knowing who it is. "You know how to read time, right?"

She knows he's joking, but her voice chokes nonetheless. She doesn't know what time it is, can't even remember what day it is.

"I'm sorry." She whispers.

He notices the thickness of her voice and inquires. "You okay, Granger?"

She doesn't answer for more than five seconds, and he starts to worry.

She suddenly says something into the phone that she doesn't know the origin of.

"I need you."

He pauses, and a shared understanding passes through the line. She doesn't think she can hold the tears in any longer, and really _really_ needs his company.

There's sounds of swift movement, combined with jingling of keys. "I'll be there in five minutes, okay." He says gently, and she wants him to bloody _teleport_ because it's _now_ that she needs him.

"Okay." She says, but is too dazed to really comprehend her surroundings.

Draco doesn't want to hang up, worried that she'd do something stupid in the meantime, but trusts her enough to let her wait. It's three minutes when the front door opens - it's been unlocked all day - and then closes and locks.

She's in her bedroom, and the door opens slowly. Her head turns to see Draco enter, and she curls up in a ball on the side that's facing him. His jacket is shed and his shoes slipped off. When he slides under the covers next to her, she feels warmer than she has ever been.

"I'm here." He whispers into her hair as she buries her head into the crook of his neck.

She feels better, somewhat. Because he _is_ here, even though her grandfather isn't any more.

* * *

'Fix You.' — _Coldplay_. _  
_


	3. The Antidote

**AN/: **Sometimes the titles of the songs can be misleading. Listening to the song can help create a mental image. Just a suggestion. My music taste may differ to yours, and I respect that.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to JK Rowling. Also, the songs I listen to whilst writing belong to the respected artists as mentioned below the page.

**Warnings: **Bad language, sexual situations, blah _blah_ blah.

Reevieew.

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**iii. The Antidote.**

"You've got magic covered." Draco circled her. "But when you don't have your wand; what then?"

Hermione scoffed. "I _always_ have my wand."

"Let's say you don't." He curled a lock of her hair around a finger, pulling it straight before releasing it and letting it spring back. He went and stood in front of her, arms crossed and a smug smile on his lips.

"Malfoy, I _always—"_

"Use your imagination, love." He smirked, tapping her forehead with his finger. She swatted it away, trying not to blush at the affectionate nickname.

"Fine." She closed her eyes for full effect. "I don't have my wand."

He took the opportunity to roam his eyes around her. Dressed in training shorts and _his _Quidditch jersey, she looked nothing short of ravishing.

"Good. What do you do?"

"I know wand-less magic."

"Gods, Granger." Draco sighed dramatically, stepping closer to her. She felt her heart speed up. "I'm talking about hand-to-hand combat."

Her eyes flew open. "Magic exists for a reason, Malfoy." She pulled out her wand, flashing it in his face.

His grin widened and his eyes rolled. Stepping back, he took out his own, custom-made wand and drawled. "_Expelliarmus_."

Her wand flew out of her hand, out of reach.

"Fucking hell." She muttered.

"Just making a point here, baby." He retorted, running a hand through her hair.

She laughed as Draco's thumb brushed a ticklish part of her neck. "_Stop_. Kingsley assigned you to _train me._ Not—" She gasped, when he raked his short nails over her scalp. "—me."

He chuckled low. "Should've thought about that before you came in looking like _that_."

His eyes raked over her, and she flushed.

"Teach me something, Draco." She quirked an eyebrow, challenging him.

"Fine." Draco groaned, stepping back. "Punch me."

"What? No."

"Come on. Punch me." He held his arms out, giving her a clear target.

"I'm not punching my boyfriend."

"Pussy."

"You're a _child_."

"Not man enough, Granger?" He taunted, knowing it would work.

With a roll of her eyes, she punched him. Or at least, tried to. He caught hold of the fist before it could do any harm. Not that it even had the potential of doing so. He chuckled, tapping her thumb.

"Your thumb goes on the outside. Otherwise, you'd break it."

"I've never had to do this." She whined, making him smile at her cuteness. "My mind is my weapon."

"Alright-y, _Spock_."

She pouted at the joke. He chuckled again, leaning down and kissing her scrunched up nose tenderly.

"Here, like this." He showed her the proper fist structure.

She mimicked his hand, and he nodded.

"Good, now—"

Taking a dirty shot, Hermione sent the first colliding with his stomach. Her boyfriend coughed, doubling over and bracing a hand on the floor.

"_Jesus Christ_." He groaned, lifting his head up to see her brushing her knuckles on her clavicle with an air of arrogance.

Smiling, she crouched down and took his face in her hands. "I win."

"Bloody hell, I love you."

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'The Antidote.' — _St. Vincent._


	4. Nine In The Afternoon

**AN/: **Something else I wanted to mention, was that the drabbles won't only be inspired by songs. They can be about almost anything. Songs inspire me sometimes, sometimes not so much. This will practically be Guilty Pleasure 2.0, but more than just dialogue.

This means; I'll be taking prompts. I'll have you guys know that I absolutely love prompts, however vague or detailed.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to JK Rowling. Also, the songs I listen to whilst writing belong to the respected artists as mentioned below the page.

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**iv.**** Nine In The Afternoon.**

"You're beautiful."

Hermione smiled, opening her eyes to stare into the stormy grey ones of her boyfriend. She snuggled closer to him and his radiating warmth.

"Way to be cliché, Malfoy."

He smirked, appreciating her smart mouth and comeback for pretty much everything. "I prefer the term 'traditional'."

"Traditional?" She said with curiosity, tracing her fingers down his bare torso.

"I'm a traditional guy."

"Are you?" Her breath hitched as he slid a warm palm down her thigh, under the silk covers they were wrapped in. Honestly, she wasn't paying attention, not when his fingers were sending sparks through her veins.

He planted his lips on her earlobe. "Why else would I ask your father for his blessing?"

The feeling of his mouth against such sensitive skin sent shivers down her spine, but the words made her heart set off like a rocket. She pulled back, staring at him with wide eyes, curious eyes.

"You _what_?"

Draco only grinned, kissing her firmly on the mouth before getting out of bed.

"No way, Drake—what are you—you can't be—_gah_."

He was already half dressed, now buttoning up his off-white oxford.

"Use your words, love." Draco smirked deviously, sending a wink in her direction, successfully angering her further.

Hermione jumped out of bed, hurriedly clothing herself in a robe, before reaching him as he sat by the edge of the bed, clasping on his watch.

The idiot had the audacity to look up at her _innocently_.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Malfoy. But if this is some sort of sick joke—"

"_Relax_, Hermione." He told her smoothly, standing up and sliding his hand through her hair to cup her head gently. "No games. I'll pick you up in an hour, alright?"

He tried to kiss her, but she moved her head so his lips brushed against her cheek. The Malfoy laughed, unfazed, but amused.

With a tender kiss to her forehead, he moved past her.

She went to the door, watching as he tossed powder into the Floo, and disappeared into the green smoke.

Hermione smiled, biting her lip in anticipation before resting her head against the doorframe.

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'Nine In The Afternoon.' — _Panic! At The Disco. _


	5. Coming Out

**AN/: **Hey again. Sorry for the late update. Enjoy.

Prompt me.

Love reviews.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to JK Rowling. Also, the songs I listen to whilst writing belong to the respected artists as mentioned below the page.

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**v. Coming Out. **

"Hermione—are you even _listening_?"

The girl in question lifted her head from staring at her twiddling fingers.

She tried to give an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry; what were you saying, Ron?"

He sighed dramatically, before delving back into ranting about how _mental_ Snape got in class.

Hermione tried not to keep glancing at the boy on the opposite side of the Great Hall. She couldn't relax after their fight from last week. They didn't speak a word to each other in _days_, even whilst living mere steps away and sharing a bloody common room. They were fighting.

And she hated every second of it.

Her eyes went back to her fiddling hands.

"—_blimey_. I mean—" Ron's eyes suddenly narrowed over Hermione's shoulder. "What do _you_ want?"

She looked up, before turning her head and lifting her gaze to Draco Malfoy.

"Obviously not anything concerning _you_, Weasel." He drawled in that slow, sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes.

"Get lost, Malfoy." He sneered, face turning red. "Before I make you."

The blond scoffed in reply. "Oh, good one. I'm quaking in my shoes."

Draco turned his eyes away, looking down at the brunette with a softened gaze.

His voice dropped a few octaves. "Granger."

Hermione worried her lip. "Malfoy."

He slid onto the bench right next to her. Everyone stared, turning their eyes, craning their necks or even slightly standing to get a better look. Those who didn't notice, where instantly informed by neighbouring gossipers.

"_Malfoy, _everyone's watching—"

"I don't care." Draco cut in smoothly, straddling the bench before touching his knee to hers. "Gods, I've missed you."

Ron's eyes were wide and alert. "Have you gone bonkers, Malfoy—"

"—Be quiet, Ron." Hermione snapped at him, having already been on edge due to their lack of time with her boyfriend.

Ignoring the Weasley, he edged closer. Tilting his head, analysing her, when he finally smirked.

"You miss me. Hell, you're driven _insane_ without me."

"Does your ego even fit through the door, or what—?"

Grabbing her twitching fingers, he laced his own through the gaps of hers. He laughed, short and low. The watching crowd merely stared in awe. Draco Malfoy had just _laughed_. Had someone spiked their pumpkin juice?

Ron stood up, so quickly that his head swam for a few disorientating moments.

"Don't hurt yourself, Weasel." Draco smirked, lazily tracing a pattern on the soft skin between her thumb and forefinger.

"Draco, play nice." Hermione scolded, turning to Harry and Ginny, who sat next to each other on the opposite side of the table. "I wouldn't mind a hand, guys."

Harry held his hands up, a smile on his lips. "It's all you, 'Mione. I told you I'm not going to be the one to tell him the _moment_ I saw you two—" He shuddered.

Ginny poked his shoulder whilst rolling her eyes. "Go on, Harry. Say it. _Snog-ing._"

"Oh Merlin. The nightmares are back." He groaned.

"Wait—what? Someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on here!"

The Malfoy cut in at that point. "That's easy, Weasel." He simply said, before turning to Hermione and kissing her temple gently, affectionately.

"I'm corrupting the Gryffindor Princess."

Said-girl blushed crimson. "Shut _up_, Draco. Ron, let me explain."

Ron just gaped at her, waiting.

"You may want to sit down for this."

* * *

'Please, Please, Please.' —_ The Smiths. _


	6. Leave A Message

**AN/: **Thank you for the lovely reviews, and I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to many. This is the first free day I've had in a while.

Prompt me.

Love reviews. You know what to do.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to JK Rowling. Also, the songs I listen to whilst writing belong to the respected artists as mentioned below the page.

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**vi. Leave A Message. **

Clicking the door shut behind her, Hermione undid the belt on her coat and dropped her keys into the 'key bowl' by the door. She draped the red trench coat onto the back of the sectional sofa, having had memorised the route around the duplex apartment. With a click, she flicked on the lights, and then shifted to the phone, pressing a button to check her messages.

_Beep. _

_You have four new messages. _

Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyelids and sliding off her heels. Padding over to the kitchen, she set the kettle on. She heard Ginny's voice echo through the vast room.

_"Hey, 'Mione. How are you? I feel like I haven't talked to you in years. Well, I have some bloody fantastic news. I don't really want to tell you over the phone—or the voice machine, haha—but—Merlin, am I dying to tell you! But Blaise would hate me if I did like this, so we should get together next week. __I was thinking some coffee at Costa, and then a little shopping at Bluewater? Sound good? I'm probably rambling—gosh. Anyway, call me soon. Love you."_

With a clatter, she pulled out a cup and tossed in a teabag and some sugar. She smiled at her best friend's words, already guessing the news. The water boiled soon enough, and she poured it to make a nice cup for herself.

_Beep. _

_"Hello? Did the beep go off? I—ugh, well—yeah. Hey, 'Mione, it's Harry. Luna and I wanted to invite you to dinner Friday night. We're celebrating my new job at the Ministry. Minister Potter. Does that sound off? Oh, I sound like a tosser, don't I? Yep, Luna just confirmed. Talk to me soon, yeah? Oh, and Luna says hello__—no, she says bye__—now she's saying something about Snorkacks__—? Love you, see you soon._" 

Her smile didn't leave, only widened, as she took a seat on the sofa, crossed her legs and sipped her steaming brew. The hot liquid calmed her, and she tipped her head back, closing her eyes for a moment.

_Beep. _

_"'Mione. I know you've been avoiding me. I get it. I mean—I fucked up, I know. But it's been almost a year, and I can't get over you. I know you still love me too. Lavender—she—she meant nothing—I swear. It was just a huge drunken mistake. I miss you. I need you. So, uh, erm, call me back, I guess."_

She groaned aloud, taking a large gulp of tea to soothe her anger. She wasn't going to forgive him this time. Damn. Just when she had completely forgotten about the idiot, he popped back up in her life. Much to her pleasure, she barely registered it, her mind ignoring his plea immediately. The next voice had her heart dropping to her stomach, and then shooting up to her throat.

_Beep. _

_"Fucking hell, Granger. Do you ever answer your phone? Right, well. I wanted to talk about last night. You know, when you kissed me? Of course you know. I blew your mind...About that; ah, fuck. Alright, I've never done this. I don't know how—I just—fuck, what the hell is wrong with me right now? Listen, Granger. I'm only going to say this once: I can't stop thinking about it. About you. Salazar, you're in my mind—all the bloody time. That kiss didn't help, either. But fuck, I want to do it again. And again. And more—but that's beside the point. Just call me, or something, alright?"_

Hermione's breathing was shallow and hard by the end of it. She wanted him, more than she could ever imagine. The kiss hadn't been an accident. She'd done it so her mind would be at rest after fantasising about it for the better half of a year of working iwth him. But damn, it felt so fantastic that she could barely stop thinking about him. She couldn't take being in such close proximity to the immensely good looking guy that drove her insane and flirted and made her blush and flustered.

Her phone rang, but she couldn't bear to answer it.

After four rings, it went to voice-mail.

And then _he_ spoke.

_Beep. _

_"Oh, brilliant."_

She froze, before leaning towards the phone. His slow, sarcastic drawl mirrored his annoyance at her lack of answering his calls.

_"I swear I'm getting you a mobile. I'm not even muggle and I cope with this shit. And I don't call this much, you know. I have better things to do. I just...I can't do any of it with you having had set up camp in my mind!"_

The laugh she gave was unexpected, but genuine.

_"I know you're there, Hermione. You get home at quarter-to-six on the dot, make yourself a cuppa', relax for ten minutes and check your messages. You're there. Might as well admit it." _

She didn't move a muscle, as if it would compromise her position.

_"...Okay, Granger. If that's how you want to play it—I'm game. I bet you're just listening. I know how much you love my voice. Sexy and low, runs over you like warm butter, hmm? I know how much you want me, Granger. No doubt about it. It's just this holier-than-thou bullshit you're trying to pull that really vexes me__—_"

Without giving it a second thought, she yanked the phone from the stand, putting it to her ear.

"You pompous, arrogant twat." She found herself saying into her phone. "How dare you speak to—"

"—Well, well. What do we have here?" Draco's smirk practically carried through the line.

"Oh, shut up, you—"

"—Gods, you're sexy when you reprimand me."

"You can't even _see_ me."

"We can change that."

"—What?"

"Let me take you out tonight."

"What in the hell—_no_."

"I'll pick you up at eight."

"No."

"Seven, then."

"That's not what I meant."

"See you later, Granger."

"No—Draco—!"

He had hung up, the crazy bastard.

Hermione feared looking in a mirror. She could swear all she would see was a huge, idiotic grin plastered on her face.

* * *

'Panic Cord.'— _Gabrielle Aplin. _


	7. Viva La Vida

**AN/: **Quick note; hello hello. I have to get something finished in like, the next two minutes, so I shall talk to you guys properly, another time. I'm sorry. Feel free to leave a review about how terrible I am. Any review will do, actually.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to JK Rowling. Also, the songs I listen to whilst writing belong to the respected artists as mentioned below the page.

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**vii. Viva La Vida. **

His phone buzzed by his ear, irritating him to no ends.

"_What_?" Draco practically hissed into it, having picked it up and put it by his ear.

"Ooh." Came Blaise's voice from the other end. "Someone's pissed. What, did the poor baby not _get _any last night?"

He turned his head to see his bed empty, angering him even more. Where _was_ she? He slipped out of bed, planting his feet firmly on the ground before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Did you want something?" He snapped, finding his clothes strewn around the room and pulling them on. Except for his shirt. He couldn't seem to find it.

"Actually, you depressed son of a bitch, there's a party tonight."

She couldn't have just left him like that. He was going to _kill_ her. He turned the doorknob to his bedroom door and walked out to the hallway before jogging down the stairs. The sound of plates clattering hit his ears.

"Hey, you there?"

"Yeah, sorry." He said, vaguely paying attention to his phone call. "What were you on—a party?"

"_The_ party, my friend." Blaise sounded excited. "Starts at midnight, my place. You in?"

He was too distracted, walking into his kitchen only to find the best thing he'd ever seen.

Hermione stood by the island, dressed only in his dress shirt, piling pancakes onto a plate. She was humming a melodious tune, turning around to get a bowl of strawberries and putting them by all the breakfast she'd created. There was French toast, — his favourite — Spanish omelettes, waffles and various forms of bacon.

She was pouring juice into two glasses when she noticed him standing by the entrance, mouth agape.

"Morning." Her smile made him insane. "I raided your fridge, hope you don't mind."

"You need to stop zoning out on me, Drake." He hear Blaise say, vaguely. "Is the party animal going to be there, or what?"

He stared at her, but spoke into the phone still warming his ear. "Not tonight, Blaise."

With that, he disconnected the call and strode forwards to the beautiful woman in his kitchen.

"I didn't know what you liked, so—uh, unless, you have somewhere to be—" She said, eyeing the phone he'd placed on the island.

He had her pinned against it within seconds. Her arms went around his neck, her lips parted as deep breaths escaped them.

"Are you kidding me?" He plucked a strawberry from the bowl. "I'm all yours, Granger."

"Good," She smiled marvellously, leaning forward and biting the strawberry he held between dexterous fingers.

Her lips were soon painted red, and with a smirk, he leaned down to taste them.

Oh yes. He could _definitely_ get used to this.

* * *

'Viva La Vida.' — _Coldplay._


	8. In Paris With You

**AN/: **The inspiration to this has quickly become one of my favourite poems. Partly because the use of 'Paris' as a synonym for 'love' is simply brilliant. Partly because the love is so obviously _there_, but too scary to admit. I don't know, it just kind of screamed _Dramione_ to me as I read it. I am very excited about this particular one-shot, must say. I had an absolute blast writing it. If you don't quite grasp it; the italics in each passage are Draco's thoughts.

Tell me what you think, and shoot me a suggestion/idea/prompt.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters belong to JK Rowling. Also,_ In Paris With You _belongs to the brilliant James Fenton and I take no credit for it.

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**viii. In Paris With You. **

_._

_Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful,_  
_And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two._  
_I'm one of your talking wounded._  
_I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded._  
_But I'm in Paris with you._

_._

"Truly a beaut, this one."

Draco rolled his eyes at his best friend's attempt to woo the flock of women surrounding them. The particularly girly group beside them broke into a string of annoying giggles and swoons.

"Wouldn't hurt her to crack a smile now, would it?" Malfoy remarked, running pale fingers through his snowy hair before leaning forward on the semi-circular railing around the glass cage. He tapped the glass with his knuckle, despite the cold looks from the guards posted around The Louvre. "Come on, Lis. I bet _I_ could make you—"

"_Monsieur_, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the—"

"Christ, Drake. Quit faffing about, you're embarrassing me—"

"Never one to respect boundaries, hmm, Malfoy?"

He knew that voice anywhere.

Cautiously, Draco turned towards the sound. Hermione Granger stared back at him, arms crossed over her chest, her full, cupid-bow lips pulled up in a smirk that made his blood run south.

Resting his elbows on the railing, he eyed her beyond the cluster of tourists. It wasn't difficult, she was the only one he saw either way.

Grey eyes slid down her body, taking in the lose honey curls spilling over her shoulders and framing her heart-shaped face; travelling downwards to the top and skirt ensemble she made look like _bloody lingerie_, and those milky long legs that he envisioned wrapped around his waist—

_Damn. _

Curious brown eyes bore into his, long eyelashes brushing rosy cheeks every time she blinked.

_Hot damn. _

"You realise this staring contest is going to go from hot to awkward very soon?" Blaise muttered under his breath, discreetly breaking his mate out of his reverie.

Straightening suddenly, pausing to clear his throat, Draco composed himself. His wandering thoughts were anything _but_ appropriate, and it was starting to become evident.

"You followed me to _Paris_, Granger?" He smirked slowly, watching the way heat painted her cheeks, with mirth. "I didn't realise going off the grid affected you so."

After the War, both of them had returned to Hogwarts for their final year. A barely-there friendship had formed, consisting of civil behaviour and occasional sarcastic banter some would label as 'flirting'. The undeniable attraction was there, as was the sexual tension that came with their clashing personalities. But she was with Weasley, and he'd been with most, so it hadn't progressed the way either would have liked.

But then was different. Now was different.

"The loss was too much for me to bear."

That sharp tongue kept him awake nights on end. Even after moving out of London a few weeks after graduation, when she'd hugged him goodbye, longer than deemed friendly in fact. What he wouldn't do to feel those soft dips and curves of her form against his once again, even after four years—

_Shit_. She was going to be the death of him.

"Hermione!" Came a distant voice, breaking the trance their locked eyes had put the two in. Before he could react, Granger was turning away towards her caller, her unruly curls flying behind her as she spun away from him.

"See you around, Malfoy." He heard her call out, before disappearing before his eyes.

_No. Not again. _

Remembering the reason why he was at the world renown museum in the first place, he hastily faced Blaise. "Could you—the client—?"

"Taken care of." His Italian friend grinned, tipping his head towards where _she_ had stood moments ago. "Better hurry, mate."

With a smirk, he broke into a run, pushing past the confused and annoyed faces of strangers. Climbing quickly up the spiral staircase, he ascended to the entrance where he stopped and searched with all his might.

"Malfoy?" The disbelief in her voice sounded over the mutters of tourists. He whipped around to find her next to the Weasley girl, by one of the triangular fountains. Her eyes were wide, lips parted in barely concealed surprise. He approached her before she got the chance to leave him again.

"Merlin, Malfoy. Did you _run_ all the way up—"

_Oh, fuck it all. _

Knuckles tilting up her chin, he leaned down and kissed her.

And the rest, was history.

_._

_Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled._  
_And resentful at the mess I've been through._  
_I admit I'm on the rebound,_  
_And I don't care where are we bound._  
_I'm in Paris with you._

_._

Draco was walking her home from their fifth date. They'd taken a trip to a very secluded, very quaint bookshop-cafe that Hermione positively _loved_. He'd discovered it on one of his mindless trips around the streets of Paris.

Laughing and joking and talking about nothing and everything, they walked and walked and walked. At times, they'd tiptoe across the edge of the pavement, arms stretched to balance themselves, until someone tripped first.

The streets were bare, the constant golden hue of the lampposts lighting their way to nowhere. Her apartment was a few minutes in the opposite direction, but neither cared as they revelled in each other's company.

The wind picked up force as they wandered aimlessly through Paris, and soon, Hermione's hands were rubbing at her bare arms. As if second nature, he shrugged off his blazer and held it out for her arms to slip through. She gave him an appreciative smile once she was dwarfed in his garment, and his heart did all sorts of acrobats in his chest as he buttoned her up snugly.

A loud _boom _resonated through the sky, the first signs of a storm.

She only got the chance to tilt her head towards the clouds, before rain poured from the heavens.

Malfoy laughed at her elation, tugging her hand as they started to run.

Hermione stopped momentarily, slipping her shoes off and carrying them in a hand as she sped up and jogged with him.

They reached a cafe canopy, finding refuge under it as it downed in sheets.

Catching his breath, Draco pulled her close, running his fingers through her damp tendrils. She leaned up on her bare toes to kiss him, distracting him successfully before pulling away and taking off to the middle of the road, where she lifted her arms up towards the skies and spun on the spot.

Torn between pulling her back before she caught something and risking the loss of the utterly beautiful sight of her dancing in the rain, he stayed in shelter. His mind had made the decision for him, as he watched with awe as she kicked at puddles and twirled her skirt in the air.

She stopped suddenly, cupped her hands around her mouth and called out to him.

"Draco, dance with me!"

Scoffing, he shook his head. "You're insane."

"You're not insane enough!"

"Oh real mature, Hermione." He rolled his eyes, leaning against a wall as she continued playing in the cold. He watched her for a moment, warmth spreading through his chest."Get back here before you catch something."

"Can I catch _you_?"

He ended up giving into her in the end, how could he not, after _that_? Clutching at her hips as she wrapped long arms around his neck, they swayed to the musicless night, the rain pattering around them.

She had him hooked.

_._

_Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre,_  
_If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,_  
_If we skip the Champs Elysées,_  
_And remain here in this sleazy,_

_._

"What're we doing today?"

Hermione's words were muffled against the crook of his neck. Draco was a little busy, playing with her slender fingers as they lay naked under the blankets strewn across the floor, legs intertwined. The warmth blazing in the fireplace they sat by was comforting in the harsh winter blizzard outside.

"Nothing."

She laughed a little before pulling herself up, holding the comforting wool to her bare chest as she did so. Plucking up a long stick she'd found in the gardens of the Malfoy Chateau, she pushed a marshmallow onto the pointiest side. Hermione leaned back into her boyfriend's naked torso as she roasted the food on the fire for a few seconds.

Blowing gently on the now-brown marshmallow, she raised her eyebrows. "Nothing?"

He kissed the spot below her ear. "Mhm."

Her breath hitched, and she tried to speak. "We're in Paris."

"You don't say." His lips travelled to a particularly sensitive expanse of skin where her neck met her shoulder.

"The home of the Eiffel Tower; Notre Dame, the blasted Champs—" His tongue trailed heat across her collarbone. "—_heavens_, you're distracting."_  
_

"You talk too much, _chérie_." His wandering hands brushed her thigh, knowing just how much his use of French turned her on.

She smiled, taking a bite of the roasted marshmallow. The way she ran her tongue over her lips in delight of the taste didn't stop his imagination running wild. He swooped down to taste her, and she gasped against his tender mouth.

"If you want." He murmured against her moist lips. "You can cook for me."

Hermione smirked, pulling back and winding her fingers through his platinum hair. "You know, I might just cook for _me_ and make you starve."

"_Merde_, keep talking dirty to me, and you're not going anywhere."

"Oh yeah?" It was her turn to tease. She quickly darted out of his embrace, clothed in the blanket and the shadows of the flames dancing on her skin.

He sat up straighter, reaching out to snag the fabric away. "Get back here, Granger."

"Come and get me."

And get her, he did.

_._

_Old hotel room_  
_Doing this and that_  
_To what and whom_  
_Learning who you are,_  
_Learning what I am._

_._

Coming home to his girlfriend of three months was what kept Draco going during work.

The curve of her lips, the warmth of her embrace, the tinkling of her laughter was all he could think about all day.

So when he walked through the door to _not_ see her sitting across the sofa reading, or watching the weird magic box thing; his deflation was understandable.

"Baby, I'm home."

No answer. No Hermione running up to him and pushing her fingers through his hair as she kissed him senseless.

"Love, where are you?" He called out, loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket to drape over the back of the sofa.

"In the bedroom, Draco." Her voice finally came through, like music to his ears. She'd practically moved in last month, and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

He climbed the stairs two steps at a time, reaching the master bedroom before his sanity snapped due to being away from her for too long.

When he walked in, however, he didn't find her. The noises of rattling objects coming from the en suite bathroom made him feel a little better, however. Kicking the main door shut behind him, he talked to her through the door to the bathroom.

He slipped off his loafers. "When I get home, I want to see my girlfriend. It's a little hard to do when she's hiding from me."

There was no reply.

Standing by the dresser, he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving him in a pair of dress pants. "You know, this could be classified as torture, making me wait like—"

The door creaked open behind him, and he turned, not expecting to see what he did.

His jaw slackened, dropping open once he caught the sight of her.

She wore a black fedora.

_Only_ a black fedora.

_Holy shit. _

"I bought a hat." She smirked at him, straightening the hat on her mass of curls. Her voice was low, only to be used under the sheets. She sauntered over to the bed, sitting at the edge of it and crossing her legs, wiggling her toes. "Do you like it?"

His mouth was dry.

"Sweet Merlin, Hermione." He growled, slowly walking to her position on the mattress, until she pulled him close and wrapped milky legs around his waist. "_Do I like it_?"

Her reply was an innocent, intoxicating smile. "Well, do you?"

"I bloody adore it."

She smirked triumphantly as he gathered her in his arms, before pressing her down onto their bed. "Good."

He was vaguely listening, too busy lavishing her neck with attention. "Good?"

"Because we have dinner with my parents tomorrow night."

Draco froze.

"My evil witch."

_._

_Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,_  
_The little bit of Paris in our view._  
_There's that crack across the ceiling._  
_And the hotel walls are peeling_  
_And I'm in Paris with you._

_._

"You have to be fucking kidding me!"

Hermione clenched her jaw, crossing her arms. "Don't raise your voice at me, Draco."

"You should've thought about that before you went out with him!"

"I didn't go out with him!"

"So what the bloody hell do you call that?"

"Catching up with a friend."

"You think he came all the way to France for_ a drink and a chat_?" He was jealous, that was all, but his Malfoy temper made the situation much worse.

"You may not see the best in people, but I _do_, Draco."

"Are you sure it's not just unsated feelings you have for the wanker that's blinding your judgement?!"

"I have _no_ feelings for Ron! You know that."

"Do _I_?" The words were spilling out before he could stop them. And damn did he want to stop them. "I think you might've just proved me wrong."

She looked like he'd slapped her. Stumbling back, Hermione blinked back tears.

_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry my love. _

"If you really think that, if you really believe I'm not completely devoted to you and_ only you_..." She choked. He clenched his jaw so he wouldn't cave in to her emotions."What is the point of us?"

_Don't. Don't say that. _

"Maybe you should leave."

_What? No, what am I doing? Stop, stop!_

When she released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, it came out shaky and wavering. "Maybe I should."

_Dear Lord no. Please don't leave. Never leave me._

He couldn't bring himself to say anything, even as she turned around and ran away from him.

_Don't you understand that I love you?_

_._

_Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris._  
_I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do._  
_I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,_  
_I'm in Paris with...all points south._  
_Am I embarrassing you?  
_

_._

The second the door clicked shut, Draco's anger melted away.

He'd just let the person he cared about most walk out the door. His world was crumbling around him.

With a sudden sprint, he darted through the door, towards the slowly disappearing shadow already too far.

It was raining.

"Hermione!"

Feet hitting the ground hard and fast, he ignored the pain shooting up his legs at the force. Stepping into already-full puddles, he got the whole of himself soaked before even reaching her.

"Hermione, please!"

He caught up to her, his heart in his throat, and wrapped strong arms around her before she could escape.

She struggled against him, slapping his chest repeatedly. The sound of water splashing and rain pitter-pattering around them was dull against the hard beats of his heart.

"I hate you!"

He pressed his nose into her hair, pulling her closer and tighter as she continued to hit him.

"You let me leave, you bastard!"

His fingers traced languid, soothing patterns on her back. "I know, I know. I'm so sorry, love."

"Do I even mean anything to you?" She yelled into his chest, smacking and punching and slapping his torso.

"You are _everything_ to me, Hermione. " He whispered, holding his tears at bay.

She cried softly into his neck.

"I'm sorry, _fuck_ I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it—I was angry, just so stupidly angry." He kept saying, his own tears blending with droplets of rain.

"I don't feel anything for—"

"—Oh, love, I know." Draco tightened his hold on her when she wrapped arms around his shoulders. He was such a fucking idiot.

Something in his mind clicked, and he knew he wouldn't avoid this any longer. Pulling away slightly, he tilted her face up to see his.

She looked so fucking beautiful as the rain soaked her to the bone.

"Hermione." He croaked, brushing damp curls off her forehead. "I'm so desperately in love with you, nothing makes sense anymore but us." He carried on, before she could speak or argue or interrupt. His Malfoy pride be damned. "Please. Please don't take away everything I have."

"Draco—"

"I love you, I love you, and I'm not afraid to let everyone know just how infinitely much."

"Draco—" She kissed him, then whispered against his cool lips. "Say it again."

"Say what?" He smirked slowly, his voice low and teasing.

"You know what."

"No, I don't think I do."

She started hitting him again.

"Alright, jeez, woman!" Draco laughed, grappling at her hands and lacing their fingers together. "I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger."

"_Je t'aime aussi._"

.

_I'm in Paris with you._

.

* * *

Translations:  
_  
'monsieur' __— _mister/sir. _  
_'_chérie' — _darling/honey.  
_'merde' —_ shit/damn.  
'_Je t'aime aussi' ____—_ I love you too.

'In Paris With You' — Poem by James Fenton.


End file.
